


Never

by fereldanwench



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Childfree Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Family Planning, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fereldanwench/pseuds/fereldanwench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting distant Trevelyan relatives, Cullen and the Inquisitor discuss family plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never

Skyhold had regularly entertained visitors during the Inquisition’s initiative to counter Corypheus. Soldiers eager to pledge their swords in retaliation, religious pilgrims seeking blessing and purpose, shrewd aristocrats promising one favor in exchange for another—The enchanted walls deep within the Frostback Mountains had become a sanctuary for all types over the past few months, and the constant activity became familiar and expected to its permanent residents.

 The Inquisition’s latest arrivals, however, were something of an oddity, to both the Inquisitor and her fortress.

 Melisande leaned against the cool stone of Skyhold’s central staircase, crossing her arms as her eyes tracked the quick movement of children sprinting across the courtyard. Two girls and a younger boy, a trio chasing each other with muddied hands and panting breath. One of the girls stumbled over a rock and landed on her knees, and Melisande winced in anticipation of a teary outburst. Instead, she giggled and hopped up, happy to resume whatever game they were planning.

 “I haven’t seen you concentrate like that in weeks.”

 Melisande smirked when she heard Cassandra's voice behind her.

 “Don’t you have some very tall hats to try on?” she teased. Cassandra rolled her eyes and groaned, saying all that needed to be said about the fittings for her Divine attire. 

 Melisande uncrossed her arms just long enough to point discreetly towards the children.

 “Lily, Dasia, and Barret. They’re family,” Melisande explained. She frowned at herself. “Of sorts. Their parents are my father’s cousin’s… something. Nieces and nephew?”

 She watched Lily chase her little brother, and cocked her head as if the new perspective could offer clarity. Cassandra snorted.

  “I am familiar with that struggle,” she replied dryly.

 They shared a sympathetic gaze, until Melisande shrugged and returned the focus to her charges. “Whatever the relation, their parents are getting a tour of Skyhold with Josephine. Somehow I ended up relegated to  _au pair_.”

 A shrill cry echoed across the courtyard, and Melisande turned in time to watch Barret fall into puddle just outside the weapons repository. Tears streamed down his ruddy cheeks as his sisters looked in Melisande’s direction. Their eyes were wide with fear of repurcussion, and they took turns shoving each other before they sprinted up the nearby stairs.

 “Ah, shit,” Melisande muttered.

 Cassandra slapped her firmly on the shoulder.

 “I have no doubt you are up to the task, my friend,” she said with the faintest hint of a smile. Melisande sighed as Cassandra made a hasty escape.

 “Thanks, friend!” she called back.

 Melisande crossed the damp grass and knelt before the sobbing boy. He had quieted, but once attention was on him again, the tears flowed with a renewed vigor. Melisande quickly shushed him before she realized she had no idea what to do in this particular situation.

 “It hurts,” Barrett whimpered, holding out his palm. A small scratch bled through the watery mud. Melisande reached for his hand to get a closer look, but he quickly snatched it away. “I want my mommy.”

 “She’s not here right now,” Melisande said, straining to work a gentle coo to her voice. The cadence felt and sounded ridiculous, and Melisande avoided eye contact with some of the nearby soldiers. Barret’s bottom lip began to tremble.

 “Why don’t we get you cleaned up and we can find her?” she suggested with mandatory warmth.

He sniffled and nodded before lunging forward and wrapping his arms around her neck. Melisande froze, unprepared for the violation of personal space, and tried to pry his grip from her shoulders. She sighed, each attempt only being countered with Barrett digging his fingers deeper into the back of her neck, and scooped him into her arms.

 

* * *

Cullen rubbed a bare hand over his cheek, idly scratching the stubble that was almost long enough to warrant a shave. He scanned the first sheet of a thick stack of papers, reviewing the meticulously drafted report from one of Leliana's scouts in the Western Approach. Although the defeat of Corypheus had stabilized much of southern Thedas, Venatori stragglers, remaining rifts, and opportunistic bandits ensured that the Inquisition still very much had a role to fill in maintaining order. He sighed. It would seem small legions of darkspawn could be added to that list once more. Cullen's hand drifted from his cheek to the back of his neck, massaging the knot that regularly tightened by the end of the day. 

“Commander?”

He glanced up from his desk. Josephine stood in the central doorway, writing tablet in hand and flanked by a noble couple eagerly peering over her shoulder. Before he could ask what they needed, Josephine mouthed  “I’m sorry” as she stepped aside and ushered the pair into the tower.

“Commander Cullen, I’m honored to present Lord and Lady Trevelyan.”

Cullen felt his eyes widen, and the lady laughed.

“Not  _the_  Lord and Lady, ser. Have no worries,” she assured him, extending her hand in greeting. Cullen reached over his desk, gripped her fingers at an awkward angle, and gave a quick shake. 

“It’s, ah, a pleasure to meet you nonetheless,” he replied.

Lady Trevelyan picked up one of the books on his desk, and Cullen shot Josephine a look. 

“They’ll be staying with us while they replenish supplies before returning to Ostwick,” Josephine explained.

“We’ll stay out of your hair, Commander,” Lord Trevelyan said. He walked to the other side of Cullen’s desk and peered out the window, whistling lowly. “Truly remarkable how it stays so warm here. I don’t know how you Ferledans tolerate all this snow.”

“Um, yes, it was a most fortunate discovery,” Cullen replied. He reached under the Lord's torso, grabbing and relocating an uncorked bottle before it toppled to the carpet. 

“Will you be joining us for supper this evening?” Lady Trevelyan asked. She set the book atop his stack of reports. Cullen placed it back on the side of his desk. “There are so many rumors about the man who swept Melisande off her feet. I’d love to be able to set the record straight.”

He raised his brows. Rumors and gossip surrounding the relationship between the leader of the Inquisition and the commander of its army were nothing new; although he didn't especially care to be the subject of such topics, the circumstances had become commonplace. But he would hardly say he had swept Melisande off her feet. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Josephine intervened on his behalf.

“The Commander and Inquisitor will be joining us this evening,” she said in a tone that Cullen knew meant the arrangement was nonnegotiable.

 "Oh, excellent! Everyone back home has so many questions."

"How far does this magic extend? Do you have manually to keep the main bridge clear of ice? I don't know how you Fereldans get any traveling or trade done in this terrain."

“Mommy!”

“Andraste's ass!” Cullen covered his face, rubbing his hands over his mouth.

With a clenched jaw, Cullen looked down at a young boy rushing into his office. The child bumped into his desk, jostling papers off their stacks, as he skipped to his mother's side, and he spun around towards the other open door, prepared to yell at whomever had let the child in. Instead of an apologetic scout, he saw Melisande strolling into the overcrowded room. She offered a sheepish smile in consolation, but the dirt smeared across her shoulders seemed to suggest she had endured even more than he had.

"Barret, what in the name of Andraste happened to you?” Lady Trevelyan asked as she knelt in front of him.

“Little bit of roughhousing,” Melisande explained. She adjusted one of the stacks and re-positioned a vial of ink. Cullen smiled at her, but she remained focused on their guests. “I believe the girls ran off to the templar's library. I’m afraid I wasn’t as attentive as I should have been.”

“Nonsense.” Lady Trevelyan raked her fingers through her son's damp hair. “It’s just how they are at this age.”

“I’m sure you two will find out soon enough, huh?” Lord Trevelyan gave Cullen an all too friendly slap on the back.

 Melisande laughed, but it wasn’t her usual laugh. It was forced, polite only out of necessity. 

"I understand our Lady Ambassador has arranged a wonderful supper in your honor," she said with a tight smile. "Lady Montilyet, could you see my family to their rooms?"

Josephine agreed and began detailing the courses she arranged, the musicians hired for the affair, and other details that seemed to delight the Trevelyans. Melisande lingered in the doorway until they were out of earshot, the fake smile frozen on her face, until she closed the door and pressed her back against it. Eyes close, she drummed the palm of her hands against the wood in aggravation and groaned.

 "I am so sorry if they bombarded you," she said, crossing the room to meet him behind his desk. 

 "Ah, no, it's--I suppose I should be used to unexpected visitors by now." He reached for her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I was unprepared to meet your family, however."

 She squeezed back and kissed the tip of his nose.

 "Very, very distant family." 

 

* * *

Melisande laid out the dress Josephine had selected on her bed. She made a face, noting the fitted waist and elaborate trim and wondered if she could get away with something less gaudy. According to Josephine, it was apparently in-style with Ostwick's latest fashions, but Melisande had spent the past decade in light armors, protected in leather and steel, rather than keeping up with the whims of noble fashion. She fingered the glimmering embroidery around the neckline, and wondered if there was anything else in her limited wardrobe that would be appropriate for a semi-formal dinner.

Before she could entertain the thought further, the creak of the wooden stairs below her room startled her. Melisande reached for her dressing robe, not wanting to surprise anyone in her smalls, and she watched attentively as the footsteps grew louder. She let the robe drop when she saw familiar blond waves peeking over the banister.

"Did I overdress?" Cullen asked with a small smile as he rounded the banister, still dressed in his usual armor and furs. Josephine had apparently given up interfering with his formal wear. 

"I'm trying to figure out how I can avoid wearing this," Melisande replied, gesturing to the gown.

Cullen rubbed his neck. "It is rather... ornate."

Melisande snickered. "That's one way to put it." She sighed in resignation. "Button me up?"

He nodded and she stepped into the gown, shifting her thighs as she pulled the fabric up to her waist. Cullen knelt behind her, working the buttons over the swell of her rear, and slowly moved up.

"How do I look?" she asked, spinning around.

"Lovely, as always."

"You hate it," she said with a good-natured laugh.

He gave her an apologetic smile. "You are always lovely."

Melisande smiled in return as she looked down and straightened the cloth that had bunched around her hips. Cullen sighed and sat at the edge of their bed and rubbed his temples.

"Long day?"

"Headache," he replied tersely. It had become their code word, more or less, for his struggle with the lyrium withdrawals.

She stepped in front of him and gently ran her fingertips through his hair, applying gentle pressure to his temples. Cullen sighed again and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing the side of his head against her lower abdomen. Melisande silently leaned into his grip and began massaging his neck.

Neither especially cared for the banquets and political soirees thrown on behalf of the Inquisition--most of their meals were shared pieces of bread and dried fruit over the war table, with the occasional stein of ale if they could afford the indulgence--But she suspected the addition of meeting her family didn't help matters. Correspondence had been shared with his sister and her parents, but until now, the couple had yet to deal with their families prying and intervening in person. Melisande wasn't even sure she'd really consider Devin and Sarise family in spite of their shared name, but it was a much closer relation compared to those who normally do the gossiping. 

 "I'm sorry about our guests," she said, now running her hands through his hair. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. "Devin especially has a knack for... not knowing boundaries."

"No, it's not them. I--It's the talk about families and children...As a templar, I never—” He sighed, his breath warm even through the dress. Cullen pulled back and looked up at her, eyes dark with worry. “Is that what you want?”

"Oh," Melisande replied, surprised. Rumors and gossip abound about secret marriages and surprise pregnancies, and they took the proper precautions when they were intimate, but they hadn’t talked much about their future outside of plans for the Inquisition. She supposed she had avoided it intentionally, worried that he might want something she wasn't prepared to give.

"I never saw myself as mother," she admitted, recalling her misadventures in childcare only hours earlier.

"Never?" Cullen asked, cautious, hopeful. 

She cupped his jaw and titled his head up, bringing his lips to hers in a gentle, reassuring kiss. Melisande rested her forehead against his and nudged the tip of his nose with hers.

"Never," she whispered.  

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cullen's Week


End file.
